


and i just want to say

by kinpika



Category: My Candy Love
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Ten Ways to Say I Love You, multiple fics, request from tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 07:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15601494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: 1. Straightforward. Soft and heavy, like morning before the coffee’s started brewing. Like that’s all there is to say.2. Through laughter, over a chorus of voices, knowing it’ll strike home anyway. It’s meant for everyone here, after all.3. Slipped under your tongue, twisted into something else. “I trust you,” maybe. Trust them to figure it out.4. Instead of “thank you” or “see you soon” or “drive safe.” Because no matter what you say it’ll mean the same thing.5. Casually, as if you don’t mean it. Trying like hell not to mean it.6. Wrapped up in a question. How’s your day been, have you eaten, you know you can tell me anything, right? You know you can tell them anything. Right?7. Under your breath while the whole house sleeps, just before you have to leave for the day. More for yourself than for them.8. With a hand on their shoulder, a song on your lips, or a carton of their favorite ice cream in the freezer.9. Over a nervous smile, biting back the just-this-side-of-desperate hope they’ll say it back.10. With a soft sigh. Past exhaustion and frustration and despair, like it’s the only good thing left. Sometimes it is.





	1. Castiel/Candy - pretend until it's gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. With a soft sigh. Past exhaustion and frustration and despair, like it’s the only good thing left. Sometimes it is.

It takes Castiel exactly ten steps to reach her arm. To pull her back. To hold her in an attempt to stop her struggling. They’re not alone, but there was no ‘being alone’ anymore, not in his world. Eyes were on them, watching, deciphering. No doubt linking up how she finally stops trying to get out of his grasp, to the way Castiel can only sigh, so deeply, like it was the only thing he had left in him. Finding the missing link that had halted them, years ago. It was amazing how everyone else could see it, find it, feel it, but he just held one end of the chain and waited.

They could take the easy way out, and start over. Pretend like the last four years of agonising over what happened wasn’t a thing. That she hadn’t come crashing into his life in the best way possible, and despite everything, remained that thin vein of hope. Just for him.

Pretend to be friends. Pretend that money and fame just happened, and it doesn’t mean anything anymore. If he had known it would trap him like this, make him question every day if it was worth it, while she was out there somewhere, he would throw it away for her.

Castiel drops his hands, if only to find hers. Remembers these fingers, thin and delicate, and she doesn’t fight him when he holds them up to his mouth. Did she hear the song? Did she understand? He can only see water, threatening to spill, in her eyes. 

“I missed you,” she bubbles out, trying so hard to not let the tears fall. He hears it, under her words, under the way she forces herself to look away, but can only step closer. 

I love you, he thinks, with every part of his being. “I missed you, too,” he whispers, finding no more pain, no more frustration, to hold it back. Admitting it to the both of them, that he did.


	2. Castiel/Candy - someday soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. Wrapped up in a question. How’s your day been, have you eaten, you know you can tell me anything, right? You know you can tell them anything. Right?

Castiel knows that words had never been his strong point. Sure, he knew how to make them hurt, throw them when to drive someone away, or phrase them to pull people in. Words were saved for important moments, weaved into songs, whispers in ears. Caught on the tip of his tongue, when he couldn’t string a sentence together to save his life.

But he’d grown since then. Words weren’t limited to significant moments, held back for the sake of saving face. Now, he could ask idly about a day. Be safe. Come home. Maybe Castiel had picked up a sense of humour along the way, too, but he wasn’t going to linger on that. Talked about the weather, the next door neighbour, the cafe down the street.

Prodding and probing questions, when she’s holed up in their bedroom, upset over something at work. Those times, it serves him better to just hold her close, rest his chin on the top of her head, and let her rant and rave and cry. Words weren’t limited to the ones formed verbally, he learned. Castiel just held her until she could only hiccup on every third breath, when she was teasing him for being so soft, just to hide her own pain. 

When he squeezes her, Castiel hopes she can hear it. He’ll get there, one day, being able to say it out loud. In between asking if she wanted pancakes for breakfast, or if she wanted to join him when walking Demon. One day, he wouldn’t just have to rub circles into her back, smooth the hair away from her face, and kiss her gently. One day, Castiel could ask her how her day was, if there was something on her mind, and interrupt her with an ‘I love you’. 


	3. Nathaniel/Candy - in the next life, maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. Casually, as if you don’t mean it. Trying like hell not to mean it.

It was cruel, Nathaniel knew. To spit the words out as if they tasted bad in his mouth. Drive the feeling home. _Loved_. Past tense. I _loved_ you. Was it just to watch her face crumble? No, not quite. To remind the both of them, of where they stood? Of what could have been? No, again. Nathaniel doesn’t know why those are the first words to rise in his throat, as if summoned by an unseen force. 

That phrase was dangerous. Taken for granted, but not said enough. He’d used it, so carelessly, so easily, for so long, it meant nothing to him anymore. But seeing her in front of him, again, after so long, it had to mean something that she was the first person he’d whispered those three words to. Breathed them, almost, and it had been in every part of his soul, back then. Nathaniel had _loved_ her, every part of his person electrified and alive just knowing she was there.

But that was then. This is now. She grabs his sleeve and pulls him back, lower lip wobbling and threatening to spill, but her eyes. Oh, god, her _eyes_. Narrowed and defiant and daring him to say it again. To throw those words in her face and swear they mean nothing to him. Not now, not ever. Part of him yells at her that he’s lying, that she should know better. Walls had been built when they’d separated, but they were frayed and cracking, pushed haphazardly in place of the holes she had left behind.

“I…” Nathaniel stops. Struggles. Right there, on the tip of his tongue, couldn’t she see? Didn’t she know? Drag the sentence from him, please, help him say it again. Not with fear, or pain, or confusion. With meaning. With feeling. With _love_. “I’m sorry.” I love you, he can only scream inside, where it was only him yelling at himself. I always have! The walls go up. She steels herself, and Nathaniel can only wish to take it all back, _again_.


	4. Kentin/Candy - definitely, always, forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Through laughter, over a chorus of voices, knowing it’ll strike home anyway. It’s meant for everyone here, after all.

Back then, Kentin knew he could’ve admitted it so easily. When he was ‘Ken’, skinny and short and hidden behind glasses. Sure, the things hurtled his way hurt, but he knew where his feelings really lay. And maybe she had just been entertaining him idly, with the way she batted it away with a wave of her hand. Kentin hadn’t minded then, not really. It was in the time apart, where the thought of her was one of the only things keeping him going, that he _knew_. 

Now, he’s teased. That it’s plain as day on his face, no matter how much of a image he tries to keep. That he, Kentin, was so deep in love, he practically shined. Kentin wasn’t sure how he felt about that image, of knowing that he was so obvious, try as he might to hide it. Keep it under lock and key, so he could get a feel of the waters, in case he had to make a break for it.

Kentin needed to be prepared, in case he lost his heart again. Left it behind, hoping it wouldn’t be forgotten.

Of course, she gets the better of him first. In all the situations he had imagined, damn nearing twenty, Kentin had always seen himself to admit it first. Quietly, away from prying eyes. His favourite was no great declarations of _love_ , just slipped in to conversation, when a moment presented himself. Kentin had prepared himself for a _moment_ , not a series of events. 

So, when she launches himself at his arms, mere moments after walking out of school, saying goodbye to the place for good, Kentin catches her easily. Swings her around in his arms, just so he can hear her laugh. Openly and loudly, but there it is. In the breaths and the demands to put her down. Like it’s the easiest thing to say, when Kentin couldn’t remember a moment where he had stopped fretting over the possibilities. 

In front of everyone they knew, sheer moments after donning a cap and gown. Kentin held her in his arms, staring in wonder as she repeated it once more. Just for good measure, just so he knew, she says, smiling with so much emotion, Kentin can only feel his eyes burn. Has to stop himself from yelling it back. 


	5. Armin/Candy - on the outs, outlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9\. Over a nervous smile, biting back the just-this-side-of-desperate hope they’ll say it back.

Armin would be lying if he said he didn’t care. _Of course_ he did. But he knew what people thought when they looked at him. He could shrug off the way people looked at his clothes, his hair, his games, and made their own judgements. Questions about the future didn’t mean anything, when he knew what he wanted to do. All the factors had been accounted for, lined up neatly and promptly, with no real threats of being shaken.

Except for _her_. The outlier, the unregistered and undefined possibility. Somewhere, somehow, she fit into each and every aspect. Slotted in, like there was a piece of Armin’s puzzle that he’d never noticed until now. Armin couldn’t remember how the plan looked, before she was there. Or maybe she had been there the whole time, and he just hadn’t opened his eyes.

So they sit, afternoon coffee at the cafe, her scratching out something on a notebook, he watching the street. Armin didn’t know if it was worth thinking about it so hard, trying to work out at what exact point she became the centre of his big plan. Maybe it was presumptuous to think that she would still be here, in a year, two, five, ten. But Armin couldn’t see the future any other way. 

A lump rises in his throat. Oh. Oh no. Where had this come from, to blindside him like this? When he just looked at her, sun hitting her hair, soft smile on her face as she continued to doodle, and the way she tried to catch her straw, without moving her hands. Armin couldn’t remember a single scenario he had planned for the future where she wasn’t there. 

He loved her. Did he? From the way he reached across the table then, to grasp her hand, Armin could only think _yes_. And he says it. Out loud, for the first time. Nerves hit him then, a sucker punch to the gut, when he realises that he could be overstepping. This might not be as serious for her as it was for him. They hadn’t talked about the future. Not really. Most immediate plan was to survive the last of exams, and go from there.

Armin watches how she frowns, as if realising what he said. Eyes widen. A smile forms, that she tries to cover with her hand. And she laughs, which does nothing to help with his fraying nerves, the sinking feeling that was dragging him through the ground.

Of course she felt the same way. Of course she did. He lets go of a breath he hadn’t know he was holding, relief flowing through him he can only let his head find the top of the table, and Armin has to join her in laughter. Thank you. 


	6. Armin/Candy - how long? (as long as i can remember)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. Wrapped up in a question. How’s your day been, have you eaten, you know you can tell me anything, right? You know you can tell them anything. Right?

Once he says it once, Armin finds it’s easier to slip it into everything. Got your bag? Love you, have a good day. Despite what the magazines say, he knows it doesn’t cheapen it, doesn’t make it any less powerful. In love with her, that’s what he was. And when he’s brushing hair out of her eyes, greeting her when she comes home late from work, he says it. Again. Welcome home, how was your day? _Missed you_ , dinner’s ready.

And it doesn’t have to come out like all the websites say. Armin says it in the morning, noon and night. When he’s got his fingers at her sides, tickling her until she’s crying from laughter and yelling for him to stop. When she beats his high score, again, and throws a pillow at him when he starts to sulk. Maybe it’s not right, to just find ways to phrase it, just so she knows. So that he knows too, that yes, he couldn’t imagine it any other way.

So when they’re tucked up in bed, talking about something or other that has no real bearing on anything, Armin finds the words get stuck. On the tip of his tongue, unable to just fall out. She notices it too, immediately, pushing herself up and looking at him with some level of concern. A little apprehension, as if she also expected him to laugh it off.

But he can’t. Armin can’t, not when he looks at her, and how in the low lamp lighting, she’s warm and soft, strap of her top falling down just so, hair pulled over one shoulder. She’s beautiful. 

“Armin, what’s wrong?” Her tone is gentle, curious, afraid. Tell her, he has to tell himself. Tell her again, just once more, just to be sure. She always says that they can say anything to each other, that they should be able to. _Just do it_. 

Blinking slowly, he says it. Three words, eight letters. “I love you.” This was different from the other times, and Armin hoped she knew that. He could push the words out into every other situation, but here and now, just like this. It was something else. 

On her face, a smile slowly appears, accompanied with a rolling of eyes and her flopping back down on the pillows. “I love you, too. Idiot.” Affectionately, a press of lips to reaffirm everything. No stress. No words caught in his throat. Good.


	7. Castiel/Candy - don't tell anyone i choked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Slipped under your tongue, twisted into something else. “I trust you,” maybe. Trust them to figure it out.

It always manages to twist itself into something else. No proud declarations, no uncovered message. Always finds itself climbing up his throat, about to break free, when Castiel has to change his tune. I trust you. I miss you. Wrapped up in pleasantries, jackets, cigarette smoke. Castiel buries it all under songs crooned into old recording devices, but finds himself avoid those, too.

If he thought about it literally, of course he knew why he has such an issue. Castiel didn’t need to pay a therapist to tell him that every person he’d ever loved had left him, only to come crashing back into his life (and sometimes to depart, one last time, for good). Yo-yoed and toyed with, Castiel knew and understood why his hands went clammy, why he broke out into a sweat, why the world started spinning, when he so much as even _thought_ of telling her.

Perhaps she understood, because she was patient and kind and too good for him. Smiles when he changes subject, loops her arm through his when he stammers over asking her on a date. If he doesn’t say the specifics, he wouldn’t be able to sit with her, enjoying the only sound being his guitar, strummed gently. 

Castiel hopes she understand, that she hears it. When he breathes in the morning, a mumble that’s thick with sleep of ‘morning’. Whispers against hair, when he tries to point out someone on the street, and has to cover her laughter when she notices too. Against skin, late at night. Caught in his throat, mixed in with everything else, like nails dragging against his back, his teeth finding her skin. 

She gets it. Of course she does. When she lies beside him, lighting on low, watching him write lyrics until there’s more screwed up sheets on the floor around him than pages left in his notebook. An arm around his waist, that squeezes him, reassures him. And Castiel? He hears it, too.

 


	8. Castiel/Candy - heart is where the home is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8\. With a hand on their shoulder, a song on your lips, or a carton of their favorite ice cream in the freezer.

There’s a certain way they live together, that makes it feel like home.

At first, it starts with a bag at the end of his bed. Full of things for the weekend, that wind up in his pile of laundry, while she walks out with a wave goodbye wearing his shirt. Or hoodie. Or sweatpants. Stakes a claim in Castiel’s clothing, his toothpaste, the left side of his bed. Eventually, her toothbrush just migrates to the cup with his, and her shampoo and conditioner and moisturiser and everything else spill all over his bathroom. Castiel doesn’t find himself questioning it, not really, except for when he steps out the shower more than once, smelling of frangipanis, or mangoes, or mint. 

Progression comes in the form of a drawer being cleared out for her clothes, new linens, a few extra pillows. Coming home to find Demon fed and sated, snoozing in the sun, with a note against the door saying she’d just ducked out. Dinners in his tiny kitchen that never make it to the table, joined with two tubs of ice-cream passed between them in front of movies, because they could never decide on one to share. A visit for a weekend turns into stretches of time, where Castiel starts to stop keeping track. Expects to see her home, when he turns his key in the door. Demon no longer is the only one to greet him, although he always gets to her second after being barrelled down first. 

And then, somewhere between one and two, there’s a set of keys given. Code for the alarm, advisement of the next-door neighbours, and a kiss on the cheek. See you soon. Lines start to get blurry, when there’s no longer a real distinction of _his_ stuff and _her_ stuff. Laundry takes forever when sorting out socks, stretched out shirts, and the occasional pair of boxer shorts they both sleep in. Castiel will say it’s always her music that greets him when he arrives, or wakes. Tacky and easy to sing along to, loudly and out of tune. Of course he tells her so, because she fires up immediately and just does it on purpose. 

Home was knowing that there was a pile of clothes to be kicked off if he wanted to pull the blankets up. Home was knowing that he could sneak in a kiss and steal whatever she was eating while distracted, and run when she realised. Home was murmuring it, just before the lights went out, as the last goodnight. As the first good morning. Demon jumping on them, time for breakfast, a walk, to get up and go. Good morning, murmured as he pulls her in to press a kiss to her forehead. Another day, where the sun was bright, where he was home. And in love.


	9. Lysander/Candy - i’d lay down my life, for your love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. Under your breath while the whole house sleeps, just before you have to leave for the day. More for yourself than for them.

Routine came with getting up long before the sun, to quietly pad around the house as he got ready. Not that Lysander minded, naturally, as routine became rhythmic. Up at the five ams, eating breakfast to himself, gently berating her if she came stumbling in later, wrapped up in a blanket. Sometimes, he would tuck her back in to bed, a kiss on the temple just for good measure. Most days, not so much.

Bags packed the day before, and a double check reminds him that he’s good. Lysander is settled and ready. There’s lunch in the fridge, leftovers made in between everything else, whenever they were both home. Yesterday, they both had agonised over this being a potential and inevitable future, of never quite making it. That particular conversation had led to a few shed tears, and holding each other close until sleep finally took them. Murmured sentences that drifted into nothingness, but held such a depth of feeling it was hard to ignore. Fear, pride, uncertainty, warmth, _love_. 

So strange, to think that it was starting to get to her. Lysander would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling the strain. Travelling to and from the city was taxing, and they always came so close to sealing a deal, before something or other took it away. Not to say that they were lacking in talent or uniqueness, of course not. Just a matter of convenience. 

But today? Today was good. It _felt_ good. His routine didn’t fail him, and he wanders back into their room for one last press of lips against her hair. He whispers there, that he promised to come home successful. Signed on, ready to go. That tomorrow would be better again, and Lysander could finally return tenfold everything she had given him. 

She’d tell him he was being ridiculous, and Lysander forces himself to step back. Stand up straight. It wasn’t just for her, or himself, or even Castiel’s idle dreams of getting known. But the faith in him kept him going strong, that he was falling for the dream, too.

Lysander shuts the door behind him, waves at the car waiting at the front. Holds a hand against the wood, for just a moment, and smiled softly. He would come home today, successful. He promised that, just like he had every other time. Except today, he broke his routine by half a step. By pausing a little too long. By whispering to himself that this was for them, and the future they wanted to build. His next step takes him forward, perhaps one away from what he treasured, but towards everything he could do, just for her.


	10. Nathaniel/Candy - i've been thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Slipped under your tongue, twisted into something else. “I trust you,” maybe. Trust them to figure it out.

And the voices in the back of his head ask him who he was protecting, all along. Nathaniel thought he had grown to ignore the grinding of teeth, the indecisiveness, the fretting worry. How that part of him that had been the mask, not the person, still existed. Still came to the forefront of his mind, and could almost be slipped on once again, like greeting an old friend. 

This mask, this version of him, it taunts him. Exists like a wound that never closes, and can only be treated time and time again. She fell for _me_ first, don’t forget. It was never about _you_.

So when Nathaniel finds the words once more, no longer catching in his throat, or lumped in his gut, they still don’t get out. Beaten down by himself, all over again. Warped into “when you’re ready, let me know”, just to hide it again.

It’s draining. To stand in the mirror, stare at himself. What he’s been through, and where he ended up. Finds faded scars and split knuckles and a little too much silver threaded through skin. Behind him, _he_ lingers, perfectly ironed shirt accompanied by a neat tie. You’ll never be _me_.

Nathaniel fights him, a lot really, when it’s not just in front of mirrors or in absolute silence. A constant war with himself, just being around her, watching the way she smiles and bats her lashes and has him laugh. He missed her so damn much, but he can’t say it. Clams up, jaw drawn tight. No, it wouldn’t come out like that, not this time. So he settles for running a hand through her hair, offering to escort her home. Just like old times.

That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? How it had been, not where they were now. Not when he had to deflect and hide, run away from the feeling gnawing at his gut. That those feelings never died like he’d wanted them to, instead they’d just found a place alongside Nathaniel, student extraordinaire. Alive, and constantly reminding him that they still existed.

Nathaniel bites back feelings, finds instead old ground that may have still managed to live on. Hopes that she gets it, that she understands. If only because she might’ve always known, when she smiles his way, so softly, as if she sees. Sees right through the mask, and into _Nathaniel_ , just Nathaniel, the guy who had never been able to get over her, not now, not ever. 


	11. Castiel/Candy - just for good measure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9\. Over a nervous smile, biting back the just-this-side-of-desperate hope they’ll say it back.

Castiel isn’t sure what comes over him when he says it. Says the metaphorical nail in his coffin of admitting to himself that, yeah, he still loved her. It was a niggling thought in the back of his mind of course, but when he looks at her, he can’t help it. First thought in his mind, and whatever filter Castiel had been relying on hadn’t come to his rescue. Just shoved those words out, hoping for the best. 

And he wants to take it back. Pull the plug on whatever sort of emotion was crossing her face. High strung, the nervous tension was barely holding him up. There’s a stutter on his tongue, which doesn’t go anywhere anytime soon. Castiel wants to rewind the clock, then and there, because she looks completely taken aback, and it hurts him. Rips open a deep wound, one he’d thought that had finally healed after all this time.

“Sorry, I didn’t—” Stops. Starts. “I should. I, uh.” Nothing. Absolutely nothing was coming out, as he stumbles over the apology once more. Take it back, he yells, I take it back.

Finally, she moves. A finger pressed against his lips, shutting him up this time. Her other hand held up in emphasis of _stop talking._ “Do you mean it?” The question, asked so softly he could’ve missed it, light and airy but full of feeling. Castiel would’ve called it being afraid of what happens next. 

Slowly, he nods. Twice, for good measure, just because. It’s enough, enough to make her face crumble into a watery smile, for her arms to find their way around his neck. Enough that he doesn’t question if it was the right thing, or the best time, but it was right and good, when she’s whispering it back into his ear.


	12. Castiel/Candy - out of the left field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9\. Over a nervous smile, biting back the just-this-side-of-desperate hope they’ll say it back.

The last time Castiel had said those three little words, it had been over notebooks full of years’ worth of work, the dying light of cigarettes, and in the dim light of the garage. When it had been with Deborah, it had made sense. Back then, it was only natural to say them out loud, to weave them into songs and poems dedicated to her. Castiel had thought it was going to be forever, back then, and well. Well,

Now he sits, same sort of sinking feeling, but different life. Sure, the notebooks were still full, and there was a cigarette snubbed out, but there was no garage. It wasn’t his place, or hers. No, this time it was finding her in the garden of the school. Tending to flowers and vegetables and whatever else, while he leaned against the nearby shed, strumming on his guitar. 

Or, Castiel had been. Had been content with working out chords and flow, while a comfortable silence was only broken by the occasional sigh, and maybe a hum. A steady rhythm found through trial and error, friends and not friends and sometimes something more. Until the ‘more’ became a constant, a natural progression in the grand scheme of things. Castiel couldn’t remember a time before, because he wasn’t sure if there really was.

So the words bubble and threaten to spill. And he could’ve done it just like before. Find a way to loop the phrase into a way to describe her hair running through his fingers, or how her smile has him weak at the knees. Definitely not a tired way of doing it, but.

It had been done before.

She’s repotting some plants, a quick look his way to judge why he’d stopped. Never missing a beat, as she asks what’s wrong. A comment on how she liked the set just before. Castiel watches her delicately transfer flowers from one pot to the soil, and he tells her. And he doesn’t want to take it back. Not even as the terror grasps at his throat, as history comes back, threatening to smack him in the face. That he should know better. That Castiel was wrong, just as he was last time.

Of course he didn’t listen, because since when had he, anyway?


	13. Lysander/Candy - like breathing, it’s easy to say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Straightforward. Soft and heavy, like morning before the coffee’s started brewing. Like that’s all there is to say.

For Lysander, there was no messing around. One of the few things that he had always wanted to keep sight of, to never lose, was his heart. But there it went, gently and lovingly into the hands of someone so bright, she was like his personal sun. It was natural, just like breathing, to wake up and realise that this was how it was meant to be. To not quite picture a moment before, where things had been any different.

Everything felt definite after that moment. Light and tender, and yet always going to lead him back to her. Lysander’s feet knew the path, well tracked and memorable, since the rest of him still hadn’t left the bed yet. An early start, before they hit the road, making tracks to wherever he’d been pointed towards. This time, he’d woken first. Unusual, but worry had gnawed at his gut until all he could do was drive that energy in his notebook.

Lysander was always loathe to leave the bed first. It meant he couldn’t keep her close, while they both rubbed the sleep out of their eyes, greeted the morning sun and each other. Yet he was wound up, trying not to linger on possibilities beyond his control, and to just get breakfast from one end of the house to the other without spilling it. A little over an hour until they had to leave. 

When he elbows his way into the bedroom, she was awake. Having turned the lamp on, slightly propped up. Sleepy-eyed, hair in disarray. Beautiful. Lysander had written about this moment, time and time again, just for him. Just for her. Seeing the way she slowly lit up, how her eyes would crinkle at the corner when he presented coffee and toast. How she’d kiss him on the corner of his mouth, always, thanking him. Loving him.

Responding with a certain sense of pleasant ease, Lysander settles beside her once more. Watches how she drinks in between mouthfuls, all the while letting Lysander keep one hand hostage, just so he can press his lips to each and every knuckle. 


	14. Lysander/Candy - thank you. stay with me. i’m sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. With a soft sigh. Past exhaustion and frustration and despair, like it’s the only good thing left. Sometimes it is.

It was presumptuous of him to assume she would stay, even after everything. After he’d hidden away these details, as if he could handle it all on his own. Lysander thought he could, thought he was strong enough to shoulder the burden. Try as he might, he believed he could.

But he breaks. Carefully cracks, slowly and surely, from the foundation up. It takes some time, of course it does, as the realisation hits him. As he watches his father breathe aided by a machine. As his mother does little more than sit by his bed. As Leigh refuses to discuss any other possibility apart from a miracle. 

Lysander eats the hospital food. Lysander goes to school. Sometimes he remembers his homework. Sometimes he remembers to sleep. Everything else just passes by him, silent film of the outside world, where everything was fine, and he wasn’t holding his parents’ hands, praying for the best.

So when she arrives, it surprises him. There must’ve been a leak, someone spilling the story. Lysander couldn’t remember the last time he charged his phone, ‘ah, that’s right’, when she takes three quick strides across the room and hugs his mother. They hold each other, a fresh round of tears shared, and when she squeezes his shoulder with a free hand, Lysander feels it. Like the dam had finally given in, no longer able to hold it back.

They get some air. Change places with Leigh, who arrives not long after. Lysander had been sitting for so long, his body aches with movement. Eyes sting, nose runs. Worst kind of feeling, to just want to curl into a little ball and cry, unable to do anything else, to _imagine_ anything else. 

Lysander wants to press her. To find out who told her, why she decided to come. No one should see what they had just seen. It was heartbreaking, in every possibility of the word. Even as she dabs her eyes dry, cups his cheeks, and wipes away the fresh tears that roll down, she doesn’t shy away. Holds him close, and doesn’t promise him everything will be okay. Just that she was there, always would be.

The words are choked up in between sobs, once they’ve slid down the wall to the floor. When he’s huddled up, knees against his chest, and wrapped up in her arms. Lysander cries the words out, unable to stop the hiccups and sharp inhales, how his fingers wind their way into her hair, and how he returns the hug. Finally, tightly, wholly.


End file.
